


I Wrote My Way Out Of Hell

by mistyegg



Series: Midnight Oil [7]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Canon Era, Drabble, First Kiss, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-10
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2020-02-29 12:58:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18778771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistyegg/pseuds/mistyegg
Summary: Prompt: hell, locket, beer





	I Wrote My Way Out Of Hell

**Author's Note:**

> writing homosexual relationship prior to it being legal is,,,,, really wild tbh. also the speech was kinda odd for me bc i know they spoke more... i guess fancily back then but i tried, please be nice.
> 
> title from hurricane (from hamilton ofc)

John knew he was most likely looking too hard into it. Into the causal touches that happened when it was just them writing in the candlelight, the glances around camp when the couldn’t talk but had something to say. But then nights like these happened, when Alexander looked hesitant to make his way out of the tent that morning. He rose before the sun and was working long before the rest of the crew; it was a miracle John was awake to see him just dressed.   
  
“Alexander?” He murmured out, voice thick with sleep and curls tossed blindly over his eyes. He barely saw the way his friends shoulders soften, and his voice speak up in usually hidden… affection? “Laurens my friend, it is early.”   
  
“I know,” John replied, voice thick but rising up from its rest as he did, moving his hair so he could see Alexander, already dressed with creases unnoticeable; he was probably heading out when John woke up. “Stay.”   
  
Alexander’s head recoiled slightly, and he made an odd but unrecognisable face. “Excuse me?”

John huffed a breath. “I don’t think you’re deaf.”   
  
Alexander noticeably tensed, before muttering something that sounded suspiciously like French and made his way from the tent without a word. He avoided the casual looks and easy touches; John realised how used to them he was and wondered if it was a problem. He was going to apologise three days later when they still hadn’t spoken when Alex did instead, both of them falling asleep at their writing desks. Illuminated by only a low burn from a dying candle, Alexander’s voice cut through the silence. “I’m sorry.”   
  
“I didn’t mean to overstep,” John returned, not looking up from his still hand that was meant to be writing. Suddenly Alexander’s chair scraped as he stood up, causing John to look up at him and watch him walk over. He stood up too, standing eye to eye with Alexander, who tucked out a hidden locket from underneath his cravat, pulling up John’s dominant hand to hold the heart shape. It was old and almost rusted, a silver colour that clearly wasn’t worth much, but shined under the dim light.   
  
“When I was twelve, my mother and I got very sick,” Alexander said, voice low with unfamiliar sadness.  “My cousin and I cremated her after she didn’t survive.”   


John didn’t know how to react. “Some of her is here?”   
  
“Yes.” Alexander’s thumb carefully rubbed over a prominent bone in John’s hand, watching as he tensed but didn’t pull away, so he kept softly rubbing, watch as John relaxed again. “Then when I was fifteen, a hurricane swept through my island and tore everything apart. I almost wished her to stay dead so she didn’t have to witness the horror around my town.”   
  
John ignored the island part that stood out like a sore thumb. “What came?”   
  
“I wrote a letter. As a way to cope, I walked around and described everything that happened. I sent it off to… someone who never sends me back, but shortly after it’s been posted around the colony and I’m getting sent to the mainland for an education. It’s almost a miracle I am here with you today, John.”   
  
John can’t make himself pull away. “Alexander…”

Alexander’s grip was tight, locket dropping to his worn coat so he could grip John’s wrists, holding them to his chest carefully but sternly. “I am not a stupid man, John. I know eyes like yours when i see them - and to be kind, i find myself with the same eyes looking right at you. You look at me with enough finass like you’ve had too much beer… I find myself drunk on you, as well.”   
  
John’s breath hitched, but he let Alexander tip his head closer, foreheads brushing and loosened hair tangling poetically. 

“I’ve managed to written my way out of many situations, my dear Laurens. But I don’t find myself wanted to write out of this one.” 

John let his tense demeanor soften then, not being able to hold the little giggle that slips past his lips, breathes onto Alexander’s face as he swoops in and catches John in an almost practiced kiss.


End file.
